


Mykonos

by ljke



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, a rewatch, greece has fleas and what about it, greece mention, i dont even know the theme of this i just itched to write it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 03:21:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19967209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljke/pseuds/ljke
Summary: It couldn't be a sin to see each other like this. Alfred would be recognized soon.





	Mykonos

**Author's Note:**

> this has no plot but the context is that i wanted to use some weird location and the keyword "secret" so uh haha we
> 
> this takes place a few years before imperial russia recognizes the united states of america as a country

**MYKONOS, GREECE**

**1805**

  
  


“My love,” he heard himself purr, the most casual tone he’d spoken since the 1770s, “we can’t keep meeting like this.”

Alfred almost found within the desire to kick his feet - boots clean, for once - as he sat upon the short wall surrounding the windmill like the child he refused to be. The sun set to his left, coloring the blank canvas of a man he stared upon with the faintness of a handkerchief stained with breakfast’s orange juice. He quite liked the thought, but revised it with glee knowing his Ivan was clean from any stains, here alone.

The windmill gave a faint creak behind him as it turned, the sound crawling up his spine and kissing wartime dread on the lips in its travels. It tickled the back of his skull like a spidey-sense two-hundred years too early. Alfred fought the urge to turn around. A breeze was quick to soothe him like mother to child, mumbling gentle on the waves about how his troubles were long over. His gaze slid off of the ocean to return to something with far more depth, in his eyes. Harboring far more secrets. 

Ivan’s hair was smooth today, shiny. The instigating gale did quite like to ruffle it some, perhaps as a way of saying, “ _ he’ll like this, he will- Americans love the rough and tussle look. _ ” 

Ivan’s face was calm today, peaceful. Cheeks reddened by the dusk chill, nose and eyebrows not crinkled with scorn. Alfred pushed away the memories of that pretty porcelain skin sweating revolution, covered in the blood of a future unknown.

Ivan’s clothes were clean today, fresh. Once again he donned clothing of the court, beautifully deep greens that reminded Alfred of the forests in Virginia. He was adorned in golds, golds that shone like the ancient doubloons brought home by his father, once upon a time. Coins that had a hundred stories pressed into the metal.

“I thought it was clear? We do as we please.”

Alfred found himself smirking. “Dressed fancy enough?”

“If it gets me looks like the one you just gave, I will dress like this every time we meet.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

Ivan sat on the wall beside him, looking somewhere into the horizon for a moment like if he could pry it open, it would let him privy to something he searched for. “I do,” he said.

Alfred looked into those eyes for the thousandth time, trying to compare them to something he’d seen before. It did bother him, some nights when he was lying in his cot at home. When he closed his eyes and instead of the emptiness of sleep he saw two burning, swirling, enrapturing gems bewitching him. He wanted to reach into those cauldrons and draw out their ingredients, some nights. Other nights the hate floated freely on their surfaces, and he wanted to close them. He wanted to dump them out and let their contents be lost with the tide.

“ _ The eyes are the window to the soul, mijo,”  _ Antonio had told him.

He could only wonder what the soul housed behind those spellbinding windows had to say. 

“Riddle me this, then,” Alfred quipped. He could hear London within himself, and took a moment to flex his tongue. “If countries can sense one another upon their land as you say, won’t that Greece know we’re here?”

Ivan released a laugh, and the blonde beside him became breathless. “Greece,” the Russian mumbled, eyes closing and a knowing smile pulling his lips up immeasurably. “That man would not tell us from the fleas he garnered from his harem of felines.”

Alfred snorted, his fingers idly picking at the cobblestone beneath him as he gazed at the horizon for answers, too.

“S’pose not.”


End file.
